


Mirrors on the Ceiling

by Thatlassiegotglassed



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:16:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatlassiegotglassed/pseuds/Thatlassiegotglassed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicholas Gold is one half of the greatest Jager team since the war began. But with the chaos coming to a close he must learn how to be a civilian once more and deal with his demons. He might need a little help from the blue eyed nurse that is just as stubborn as he is. (If you have NOT seen Pacific Rim, Please read the notes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrors on the Ceiling

**Author's Note:**

> Basic Info for those who have not seen Pacific Rim. Kaiju--giant godzilla looking animal that destroys lots of shit and came out of the center of the Earth called "The Rift". A Jaeger--Giant robot that fights the Kaiju. Made by humans and is controlled by two pilots through a neural/brain connection. Golden Gladiator--The Jaeger that belongs to Gold and Bae. Snow Reign--The Jaeger that belongs to Charming and Snow. Sleeping Warrior--The Jaeger that belongs to Aurora and Mulan. (Alright I think that covers it, enjoy!)

For three months, Thursday was the most idiotic day of the week. Each day at two in the afternoon without fail, Marshall Nicholas Gold would show up like he was told. And in the idiotic room with the idiotic nurses, he would do his idiotic therapy. The cot that they stuck him on was hard and caused him to stoop as a dull ache formed at the base of his spine—only to sit straight again as the sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of his limited mobility.

The nurses hated him, along with the doctors and the other patients—hell, the janitor that sulked in the corner and awaited the patients to vomit from the pain so he could clean it up and get on with his day, hated him too. But that was okay--Marshall Gold had himself convinced that he deserved it.

A perky blonde came over to him and brushed her hands on her standard sea green scrubs before scooping up the chart at the foot of his cot.

“Good afternoon. How are you feeling today Nick?” She smiled, looking up from his chart. “How's the pain?”

“It's Marshall,” he sneered. This insolent girl could at least address him properly if he was to sit in this poor excuse for a medical wing.

Her eyes widened and she focused intently on the papers in her hands. “I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't--” She looked around her shoulder—no doubt trying to find another nurse, someone to take him off her hands. “Have you--” She swallowed hard and tried once more. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“No.”

“Well that would help. If you--”

Gold reached out with his good arm and grabbed her wrist, closing his fingers over her stupid pink watch and pulling her to his face. “Piss off.”

The small nurse stumbled when he released her and her big blue eyes filled with tears. With his clip board clutched to her chest, she hurried from his cot and back into the main office. Her blonde curls bounced as she cried to an official looking woman in blue pants suit. Great. Maybe if he was lucky they would ask him to leave. He had big plans for the full bottle of bourbon that was on the counter at home.

When the official pant-suit woman came out of the office, his heart sank. One hand clutched his paper work while the other held a stethoscope. Her heels clicked in an unforgiving rhythm against the tile that let him know he was in trouble. Gold puffed up his chest as much as his shoulder sling would allow—he wasn't scared of her.

“Marshall--” She stopped in front of him, weight balanced on her left hip, lips thinned with her disappointment in him already. “You made my nurse cry.”

“Did I?” He sneered. A tiny part of him felt bad but it was a very tiny part.

“Ashley is new—and pregnant. She would have gone easy on you.” She sat the clip board on the table and pulled the curtains around his cot closed for privacy. “I will not.”

Gold had to focus on keeping his mouth closed. Her abrasive bedside manner was a farce. She wanted him to believe she was as cold as he was but her soft blue eyes and even softer brown curls gave her away. She pulled up a stool on wheels and took a seat, reading his chart.

“Torn rotator-cuff, bruised ribs, torn meniscus,” she winced at the last one, talking more to herself than to him. “That accounts for the limp. Vertebrae out of alignment. Goodness. You should be in the hospital.”

“I'm fine.”

“Says here that you have been seeing us for a few months? You should be out of that sling. It tells me that you aren't doing the at home treatments. May I ask why?”

“Just—I don't have time.” He wanted to tell her he thought they were stupid, but that sounded childish even to him, so he stayed quiet as she put the stethoscope in her ears and leaned forward.

“Deep breath for me.” He complied. She smelled nice—a mix of clean linen and a flower he couldn't identify. The small name tag on her chest read, Belle F. Charge Nurse-- that explained the lack of scrubs. The fact that he was so well known for being difficult that he'd gone through all of the lower nurses pleased Gold to no end.

She scribbled something before hanging the device around her neck. “Alright, take off your shirt.” She moved to help him unclip the sling and he shrugged her off. He managed on his own and she waited patiently through his sharp breaths as he laid the sling beside him. “If you want to be difficult Marshall, that's fine. But I'm here to help you.”

Her crossed arms didn't match her gentle tone and he glared at her before nodding. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” She helped him work the shirt around his swollen shoulder and gasped softly when she caught sight of his chest. Gold didn't say anything, he knew what it looked like.

His flat chest, molded by years spent in the service, was ruined. His shoulder was mangled by three marks, from his encounter with a savage beast. Wild looking and slightly purple, they were scary to everyone who saw them. Scars started at his shoulder and ran down his side, perfectly parallel to one another and turning at right angles to run horizontally across his abdomen—much like a grid on a computer board. They were extensive and unique—you only got them from one thing.

“You're—you're him.” Something clicked behind her eyes and Gold looked away. He wanted that bourbon now more than anything. “Nicholas Gold. The Nicholas Gold. Nick and Neal. The famous father-son Jaeger team--”

“Do you have a point?” He snapped, harsher than he meant to.  
Belle stood up straight and said softly, “You're a hero.”

Gold's stomach twisted into knots, bile forming low in his throat as he shook his head. “No, I'm not.”

“You took down the last Kaiju. You backed Snow Reign as they closed the rift. The war ended because--”

“Don't.” He cut her off. She was about to start gushing praises that he didn't deserve. She was the only person in the building that seemed to be resistant to his bull shit—he wanted to like her—and if she kept going he would probably snap at her. “Don't thank me.”

She sat down in front of him again—eyes quietly tracing the scars on his pectorals. He watched as her hands clenched in her lap with the urge to reach out and touch—to study the intricate patterns. When she finally snapped out of it, she said, “I'm Belle.”

“Pleasure,” he forced out. Introducing himself now seemed pointless so he didn't offer to greet her in any other way.

They didn't say anything for a handful of moments. Belle put one knee on the bed and pressed on his shoulder gently to familiarize herself with his injuries. In three months, he had never had a nurse touch him. He usually came in and did enough of the pathetic movements they called exercises until they told him he could leave. Her hands were soft and they prodded the muscles over and over until they were warm and pliant under her small fingers. It was nice and his back relaxed slightly

Belle scribbled something else down and moved to his ribs, counting quietly until she found the one that was bruised. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled and he jumped. “About your son.”

He nodded and she touched the claw marks on his collar bone, giving his ribs a rest from her poking.

“How did it happen?”

His jaw clenched as he tried to figure out her motive behind asking him such a question. No one had ever asked. The funeral had been televised and he had been forced to walk down the streets of Washington as the world paid tribute to the fallen. They had handed him a flag, a medal and watched as he held the ashes and remained as unfeeling as a statue.

She sat back down and took his knee gently in her hand, moving the tendons around as softly as she had done his shoulder. “If you never tell anyone else for the rest of your life—why not tell the nurse you'll probably never see again?” She smiled then, a smile that was as pretty as the rest of her and Gold bit his lip.

“It's a long story.”

“We have time.”

He didn't know if it her her eyes, soft and sincere or if it was her hand still on his knee or the way she bit her lip gently in fear that he might say no. Perhaps it was all three. Gold swallowed hard. “My son was the hero. I'm just a coward. And it's my fault he's dead.”

* * *

_Three months earlier._

The alarms filled their concrete bunker with a noise that made a person's skin crawl and heart palpitate as it jerked all the pilots from their sleep. Gold was no different as he sat straight up and almost hit his head on the bars of the bunk on top of his.

“Get up. Get up. Get up.” A younger man said in a sing-song voice. His son hopped down from his top bunk and drummed his hands along the base of his father's bed. Gold groaned and threw his legs over the edge.

Baelfire Gold, Neal to everyone but his dad, had no problem throwing on his cargo pants and running a comb through his short black hair as the alarms quieted and a female voice came over the radio.

 _“Golden Gladiator and Snow Reign report to deck 5.”_ Each Jaegar team named their own vessel. Nick and Neal's had been easy after they put their heads together. It didn't have to make sense to anyone but the soldiers who manned the craft and it suited them just fine.

“Come on old man. We can't let Nolan beat us to the deck again.” Neal said as he laced his boots and grabbed his leather jacket. It was cold in the bunker and Nicholas was having a hard time getting his muscles to do what he wanted.

“Don't call me that. What time is it?”

“2 AM. Kaiju was spotted off the coast. Category 5. Dr. Whale was right about everything. This is it Pop, this is the big one--what we've been training for.”

Category 5. Nicholas stumbled as he shoved his foot into his own boot and looked at his son with wide eyes. There had never been a Kaiju that big come through the rift. The crack in the tectonic plate had been widening for months now and it was obvious it had been preparing for something larger to come through.

Neal tossed his dad his dog-tags and jacket and they left the bunker together.

The main hall was empty for the most part—everyone taking position as the operation went into full swing. This was the start of the apocalypse and as the world went into chaos, the Jaeger base went into action.

Lieutenant David Nolan—code name “charming”-- met them on the third floor, falling into step beside Nicholas.

“Marshall,” He nodded to Gold. David was 6'1, blonde and lived up to his nickname given by the female pilots in the air force. Although Gold was ten years his senior, David and his wife Mary were the only Jaeger pilots that could hold their own beside Nick and Neal. “Colonel Mills wants us and Sleeping Samurai on deck 5—they're going to close the rift, aren't they?”

“They're going to try.” Nicholas said as they climbed the stairs. The higher they went the more activity there was as computer techs and scientist readied the Jaegers.

“God dammit,” David cursed quietly.

“Where's Mary?” Neal chimed in.

“Already there. She was assisting Colonel Mills all night—never even came to bed. I doubt she's in a good mood.” David smiled fondly when talking about his ill tempered wife and Nicholas wanted to vomit.

The Nolan's were the first husband and wife Jaeger pilots in a decade and Nick had his suspicions that the only thing that made them drift compatible was that David worshiped the ground Mary walked upon. They had only chased the RABIT– Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers--once and that was impressive. Chasing the RABIT happened when a pilot latched onto a memory and could no longer operate their side of the Jaeger. Rumor had it, Mary's traumatic childhood was what caused her to lose control. It was a dangerous thing to happen to any team and something Nick feared every time he set foot into Gladiator.

They walked into the control room and were greeted by arguing. The machines were on full alert and buttons and screens blinked with radar and coordinates that Nicholas didn't care to compute. Colonel Mills towered over Dr. Whale in her 3-inch stilettos but the man was red faced and not backing down.

“I'm telling you, you're wrong! The Kaiju are not what we expected!”

“They are monsters, doctor. Giant city-destroying monsters and we--”

“Don't understand them! They--”

David cleared his throat as he took his place beside his wife and the two stopped their quarrel. “Mind filling us in?” He flashed his pearly smile and Mary beamed.

“That will be all doctor.” Colonel Mills dismissed him with a flip of her raven hair and turned to face her pilots. Whale gathered his papers—sheets covered in equations and binary code that crinkled in his furious grip as he stormed from the room and slammed the door behind him. Silence fell and she placed her hands on the desk in front of her. “Gentlemen, while you were sleeping, Kaiju—codename chainsaw—ripped through the rift and stormed through Tokyo.”

She pulled up a digital image of the beast and Mary made a quiet noise as David cursed again.

“Three more have appeared on our register. Category 5. Gentlemen this is it. We have never had more than one surface before and if Doctor Whale is right this is not going to stop. We have to close the rift and we have to do it now.”

No one spoke. Closing the rift was suicide. The plan had always been to put a nuclear reactor in the throat of the rift, blow it up from the inside and close the fissure that connected the plates with the surface, but to put the reactor inside the chasm meant a Jaeger had to go inside as well and the possibility of coming back out was slim.

“Gladiator,” Mills said softly and looked to Nick and Neal. “You're our best. I need you to hold off the Kaiju with Samurai while Snow puts the reactor in place. Think you can do it?”

“Of course.” Neal said and his father responded with a nod.

The Colonel cleared everyone out and waited until the room was silent to speak again.

“Today is the day that we fight back—today we end this. I thank you. The world—thanks you.” Colonel Mills was not known for having feelings—or having much of a heart for that matter—but as she stood tall and raised her fingertips to the corner of her eye, she fought to keep her hand from shaking.

Mary gripped her husband's hand and nodded quietly in return before the harsh honk of the alarm going off again brought them all back to reality.

Mills lowered her hand, “Keep your radios turned on frequency seven, Lieutenant Jefferson and I will be there every step of the way. Suit up.” She turned her back on them and Gold wanted to shake her—make her face the people she was condemning to death. A hard look from his son almost kept him silent—there was nothing they could do. Either the six of them risked everything or the world came to an end.

The door shut behind the Nolans and Gold couldn't stay quiet any longer.

“Mills--” he growled. How dare she not look at him. “Mills!”

“Dad-” Neal hissed.

The Colonel turned back around. Her arms crossed in front of her like she could shield herself from whatever he was about to say.

“Doctor Whale was working on a alternative way to close the rift. If we do this now, we aren't coming back. Charming, Mary, my son—our blood is on your--”

“Do you think I don't understand the dangers Marshall?”

“No, I think you understand them perfectly that's why you're staying tucked safely in your office.”

“My orders are not from my hand.” She lowered her voice and kept his gaze, her hand clenched so hard her own black nails dug half-moons into her palm.

Gold stopped and straightened his back once more. “So,” he raised an eyebrow. “That heartless bitch upstairs is pulling the strings?”

Colonel Mills nodded slowly, lip held tightly between her teeth and Gold almost felt sorry for her. He adjusted the collar on his leather bomber jacket and put himself an inch from her face. “Then she better hope I don't come back out of the rift. Because when I do--”

“Dad.” Neal warned again.

“I'll kill her.” Gold spat and Regina flinched back from his abrasive tone.

“Duly--” Regina swallowed hard. “Duly noted.” She glanced at the younger carbon copy of the man in front of her, breathing a sigh of relief when he all but dragged his father from the room.

The loading dock was different for each Jaeger. A small room allowed the pilots to suit up, connect to the spinal cords that allowed for muscle-machine coordination and take a breath before setting foot into the brain of their craft. Nicholas stretched his limbs in the skin tight jump suit that went on under the armor. The black synthetic fabric had been developed to withstand the heat inside the Jaeger and still allowed the pilot to move freely.

“You look good old man,” Neal joked as the tech assistants put the heavy shoulder pieces in place to connect with his metal breast plate.

“Don't call me that.” Nicholas grinned and hid it the best he could as he turned and his own assistants connected the metal cord that ran the length of his spine. The robotic plates snapped along his vertebrae and sent the signals of his brain to the computer in their Jaeger.

The suit was tight and constricted every part of his body, but if he said anything his son would blame it on the weight he was gaining along with his age. The thought made him smile again.

The metal boots were the heaviest part. They connected with the Jaeger and had to withstand great force—if they ever came unhinged in a fight, the consequences would be unthinkable. Neal got his on with a solid clunk and the boots did the rest—hitching together with small clicks as they folded over his feet and ankles.

In full armor and ready to load, the techs left the room and the doors shut behind the pair with a quiet hush.

“Son,” Nicholas said quietly an Neal looked up.

The first thing he learned when signing up for the Jaeger program was that a pilot had to be compatible with its co-pilot. Not just in personality but in every way imaginable. Each pilot offered the machine one hemisphere of their brain, making the load of running the entire machine much easier. In order for the left and right side to cooperate as a single unit, the pilots entered what was called 'the drift'.

Inside the drift, they shared memories, emotions, instinct, the past and present and nothing was off limits. This form of mind melding was why most pilots were related. Fathers and sons, siblings—twins made the best candidates-- all drifted together flawlessly and chasing the R.A.B.I.T was hardly ever an issue. Although a high drift compatibility could be had with anyone, the program tended to lean towards candidates they were certain they could count on.

“Yeah dad?” Neal answered quietly, resting his helmet under his arm.

“Inside the drift—it may feel like,” Nick swallowed hard. “It may feel like we have nothing to say anymore--”

Neal cut him off with a tight hug—an embrace as good as their armor would allow and they clinked together as his son gave him a tight squeeze. Nick squeezed back, holding on to a son that any father would be proud to have and bit his lip to keep from babbling more unnecessary words.

“I love you too, dad.” Neal said before releasing him and putting on his helmet. The gear clicked and the face plate slide down slowly as he spoke through the microphone. “Let's kick some ass.”

  
Nick put on his own helmet and together they stepped into the head of the Golden Gladiator. The beast stood 260 feet tall and weighed a good 2000 tons. Against Nick's wishes, Gladiator had been upgraded to keep up with its digital brothers, the Nolan's Jaeger—Snow Reign--and Sleeping Samurai—the crafted manned by the famous Chinese Naval officer and her partner.

Each of them strapped in to the foot plates that worked like a giant elliptical machine and allowed Nick and Neal to make Gladiator walk or run. It was exhausting but efficient. Lieutenant Jefferson came over the intercom system as they powered up.

_“Alright boys, begin neural handshake.”_

Nick closed his eyes and he heard Neal mumble, “Age before beauty.” Nick went first and opened his mind as the drift swept him up into a vortex and merged with his son's. Memories, faded in shades of blue, flashed like the shutter on a camera—his first kiss, his graduation at the academy, Neal's first steps—and with a jolt he came back to reality and the Jaeger responded to their connection.

Neal shook his head, coming back into his own thoughts and looked at Nick carefully, “Easy—you know it's dangerous to think about mom.”

 _“Handshake connected and holding strong,_ ” Jefferson announced proudly and Colonel Mills took over.

_“Alright boys, get ready for the drop.”_

The screen in front of them counted down and once the timer hit zero, they free-fell the 50 stories it took to drop the head on the body of Golden Gladiator. With the robot intact and ready to be deployed they were dropped off the deck of the base and into the waters of the North Pacific.

_“Kaiju three miles north. Gladiator, get ready to intercept. Snow, get ready to head for the rift.”_

_“Copy that.”_ David and Mary said together over the radio and a splash to their left let them know that Snow Reign had been dropped in the water behind them.

“Gladiator hears you loud and clear Colonel.” Neal said with a grin as he flipped a switch to his right and gave his father a nod. Together, they took off. Striding in unison to propel the giant machine through the water at a run. With strides the lengths of ten football fields, even half submerged, it wouldn't take them long to close the gap to the Kaiju.

Kaiju—codename chainsaw—was unlike anything Nick had seen in his life. The beast was nearly double the size of Gladiator and covered in rough, leather-like skin as dark as the depths it crawled out of. The water slid off of its green scales as it reared out of the ocean and roared at the on coming pilots—blue, glowing spittle flying from its jaws.

“Oh my God,” Nick breathed softly and Neal cursed.

Since the rift opened almost a decade ago the beasts coming from it had been growing in size—evolving, according to Doctor Whale and his expert team—and this one took the cake. The two of them widened their stance and the Jaeger mirrored their movements.

Nick, flipped his radio switch, “Snow—you ready?”

 _“Bring it on,”_ David said over the intercom.

With a deep breath, father and son lurched the Jaeger forward. With a splash and enough force to shake the earth, machine and beast collided. Giant metal limbs punched, pulled and blocked on-coming scratches and roars. The animal clamped down on the arm paired to Nick and he cursed, flinching back as his own arm twinged.

“I got you--” Neal said over the sound of groaning metal. He brought his arm up to collide with the beast's jaw in a right hook that was the envy of all the other pilots. The Kaiju issued a painful bellow and stumbled backwards in the water. “We got another one.”

Both men hunkered down and braced the robot as a second monster barreled into them from behind. Two at once. Gold flinched and racked his brain for ideas on how to fend an attack from both sides. Where the hell was Sleeping Warrior? Everywhere they went they were followed by groaning metal, crashing waves and the cracking of bones. The Gladiator brought its elbow down on the animal's skull as the spinning blade on Nicholas' side ripped through its stomach—leaning back to avoid the splatter of toxic, cerulean blood.

Jefferson came over the radio as the pilots stopped to catch their breath. _“Nicholas, are you okay? Getting some strange feed back from your side.”_

“I'm fine,” he mumbled and shook his head. A soft ringing noise had started in his left ear and he prayed that he was imagining his vibrating vision.

“Dad,” Neal said as movement from the side made him turn the Jaeger quickly. The Kaiju had stood back up and was headed towards them with full steam.

Nicholas shook his head, his eyes felt like they were moving back and forth inside his sockets—like they would keep moving until the dislodged themselves. His vision narrowed and his shoulders slumped.

“Dad!” Neal yelled as the warning alarms went off inside the cockpit. His side of the Jaeger became immobile and Neal cried out as the neural weight of running the entire machine came crashing down on his nervous system.

 _“Goddammit! He's chasing the RABIT. Neal—Neal get out of there!”_ Jefferson went silent as the monster collided with Gladiator and sent it flying backwards into the ocean.

Outside his brain it was chaos—but inside—it was still and blissfully muffled. Nicholas could hear his son call his name but it was like he was speaking through a pillow. His sight had flickered—like the end of a video tape, when everything is grey and filled with white noise. Then he saw her.

She was still beautiful. Her chocolate brown hair was draped over the edge of the bed, stark against the crisp white sheet. With eyes to match, Gold felt his heart tighten every time he looked at her. His vision flashed again, like a piece of film had been cut from the movie reel, and this time she looked at him in horror. The white sheet balled to her chest as she screamed for him to get out—but he didn't. He stood in the doorway like a fool, wishing with everything he had that he could unsee what he had walked in on—unsee the man that was not himself pawing at his beloved wife.

“Milah--” he whispered before he was swallowed in blackness.

* * *

 

Salty waves slapping against his face pulled Gold from the edge of nothing and back into the world of the living. He coughed and blinked, fighting the ocean and sand for sight and air. Gulls squealed above his head—no doubt circling what they thought was his dead form.

He tried to raise up and his shoulder crumbled beneath him. “F-fuck!” he panted heavily and cradled it against his chest. Half his armor was missing—ripped from his body in chunks as pieces of the metal curled away from his skin like a battered tin can to reveal bloody flesh underneath. He had never been in this much pain in his life and it had his spine bowing, fingers digging into the sand as he considered rolling over and throwing up. He closed his eyes, focusing on the simple task of breathing until it subsided.

When he finally opened his eyes his heart stopped beating. A few yards away, Neal lay in a ruble covered heap—motionless.

“Bae?” Gold whispered, slowly crawling to his side. A wave rolled in and gently pulled some of the debris and seaweed from Neal's legs and back into the water.

“Bae.” he said more firmly. No response came and the silence had Gold scrambling to his feet. He tripped over his limbs, stumbling passed the pain to sink beside his son and roll him over. Neal's face looked like it had been mauled by a puma. Deep scratches set into his cheek and over his left eye, through his suit and into his chest. Blood stained Gold's hands as he dug passed the mesh under the metal and felt for a pulse.

“Bae—Bae, no. Goddammit,” he shook the younger man's shoulders. Neal's skin was clammy—cooled by the water and other things that Gold's mind refused to process. He gathered Neal into his arms and held him tightly. “No. Don't do this. Come back—come back to me.”

It was difficult to get all of him into his arms but he tried. Neal wasn't small anymore and no longer folded into his papa's embrace with ease but Gold held him the best he could as the image sent him into tears. “My fault,” he stuttered. “It's my fault. My boy—son--my fault.”

Gold's cries were drowned out by the on coming helicopters. It was their rescue but it was too little, too late.

* * *

  
The blue eyes that had convinced him to tell his story were now filled with tears and Gold felt sick. Belle had stopped working his muscles a long time ago and now sat on the edge of her stool, clutching his chart to her breast like it was the last hope she had. He had edited some parts—leaving out his reason for chasing the RABIT, the fact that he scrubbed his skin raw trying to get Bae's blood off him and only stopping when Charming came to console him. She didn't need to know the gritty details. That was personal.

“Don't,” Nicholas said softly, looking away from her. He rubbed his shoulder—it hurt worse than it had in weeks after Belle had worked on it. She was still staring at him. He had to get out of here.

“I didn't--”

Belle jumped back as he stood quickly. Her words cut short as he quickly tried to put on his leather jacket and failed, sending his complimentary coffee tray crashing to the ground.

“Shit!” He stooped quickly to catch the mess and wound up practically on his knees feeling like someone was shoving a hot poker through his scapula.

“Stop. Stop.” Belle said gently and tossed her stethoscope on the bed. One hand slowly cleaned up the spill while the other reached out to steady him. Gold stayed still, rotating his gaze from her hand on him, to her face and then to the coffee stained floor before beginning again.

“Set these up there would you?” She handed him the pieces of the tray for him to place on the beside table and he stopped when she lifted one of the plastic water jugs that came standard in every room.

He had a million of them at home. Shoved in cabinets and in the dishwasher—he never could seem to find the damn lids when he wanted to use them. He thought they were indestructible before today.

“It's chipped.” he observed feebly and she smiled.

“It's just a cup.”

When the last of the coffee was mopped up, he allowed her to help him stand. She scribbled on his chart and wrote his prescription in silence. He watched mesmerized as she licked the tip of her finger and pulled the script apart before handing him his copy.

“These will help. One in the morning and one at night. And please eat something with them.”

He nodded. Her hand writing was awfully neat for someone in this profession. She tucked her pen behind her ear and paused at the edge of the curtain.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

Gold didn't ask 'what for'. He was done talking. He knew it, she knew it—and that's why it shocked him when his mouth opened up to form more words. He could have sworn he did not give his vocal chords permission to do that.

“Can I see you again?” He blurted.

She smiled, professional burgundy lips over perfect teeth. “Of course,” she tapped the chart. “Next Thursday. Same time, same place.”

Gold's shoulders slumped and all he could do was nod pathetically. He watched as she walked away. Her heels clicking gently against the tile as she said hello to the few people in the back lobby and eventually stopped to address her nurses at the end of the hall way. Gold glanced at the script and beside her name was her phone number. He gripped the tiny paper tightly before protectively shoving it inside his wallet for safe keeping. Maybe Thursdays weren't so bad after all.


End file.
